


Do Angels Even Shed?

by cas_loves_dean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, I just love domestic!destiel, M/M, domestic!Destiel, okay this is so fluffy I almost died writing it, prompt, sam and dean are done with hunting, the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2089059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cas_loves_dean/pseuds/cas_loves_dean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn’t really know what angel feathers look like, but when he comes home to the bunker to find them strewn everywhere, he panics.</p>
<p>Written for a prompt from Tumblr user castiel-loves-humanity (they have an awesome blog--go check it out!) </p>
<p>The prompt was as follows:<br/>"Dean finding feathers around the place (house/bunker/?) and panicking because he thinks Castiel's feathers are falling out, but it just turns out that Castiel tried to wash the pillows from their bed and accidentally ripped them. Sam trying to help Cas only made it worse, and that's how the feathers got everywhere."</p>
<p>I hope you enjoyed it, lovely. I don't know if it's good enough to fill such an amazingly adorable prompt, but I hope I did okay?? Thanks so much for the idea! :) It was so much fun writing it! <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Angels Even Shed?

                Dean Winchester is finally content. Heaven is in order, hell is under control, Dean is human, and Cas isn’t dead. Life is good for him. As good as it can possibly get, he’s sure. Although, Sam is still a pissy girl, but life can’t be perfect, can it? Currently, with his celestial boyfriend and his very alive, very sane brother, Dean is happy. He isn’t adjusting to normalcy very well, though—he still sleeps with his hand gun under his pillow, but he never has to use it. He sleeps with something else too, well, more like someone.

                Castiel and Dean have been in a relationship for a month now, and after strong reluctance from Dean, endless taunting from Sam, and overall confusion and lack of knowledge on Castiel’s part, they have finally found the perfect balance. Sam still lives with them in the Bunker, Dean never having the strength to let him go, and Sam not wanting to either. Sam has his own room, far enough away from Dean and Castiel’s so he doesn’t have to hear the sounds of their…private activities. Sam had heard a certain angel’s moan and his own brother’s filthy mouth far too many times, and he moved halfway across the Bunker one week after the two started dating.

                Neither Cas nor Dean have said the words yet, the forsaken words that Dean has dreaded since he was just a child. I love you. _It has only been a month,_ Dean justifies when he feels the words sitting heavy on his tongue. Dean isn’t a sappy kind of guy, and everyone knows that. Cas has been working on opening up Dean ever since they agreed to try out the next level in their relationship, but to no avail. Dean tries not to let this fact weigh him down too much, but it becomes increasingly harder every time he even thinks about Castiel.

                The physical part of their relationship is definitely not as strained. _Definitely not,_ Dean thinks lewdly as he waits for his food to be prepared. Sam had sent him out that afternoon to pick up breakfast, but Dean and Cas had been otherwise preoccupied that morning, and it quickly became lunchtime. Oops.

                Now, Dean waits in the line for Snarky’s Diner ( _Seriously, why the hell would anyone name a restaurant that_?) and thinks on what exactly he and Cas had been doing that morning, and how freaking annoying his brother is for interrupting them. He is carried away by his less than heavenly thoughts about his angel, and when the food arrives, the brunette waitress who he would’ve shamelessly hit on in the past has to clear her throat several times to get his attention.

                He blushes and looks up at her, trying to clear his mind of Castiel and his _mouth_.

                “Thank you.” Dean says abashedly, as if she could somehow read his non-heterosexual thoughts. She walks away quietly, and Dean wonders if he has lost his game. Maybe he just kind of radiates gay now, and all the girls pick up on it? The interesting thing is, he isn’t offended by the idea. He has Cas, and that is enough. Cas will always be enough for Dean.

                He takes their lunch from Snarky’s Diner and throws it onto the passenger seat of the Impala. He revs her engine, and blasts AC/DC as he pulls out of the lot. As he’s driving, he somehow manages to keep his mind off of his extremely distracting boyfriend. He makes it back to the Bunker in record time, eager to see Cas again after the horrifyingly long 45 minutes they were separated. He’s “whipped” as Sammy as teased many times, and he could care less.  

                He walks to the entrance of the Bunker happily, whistling Back in Black under his breath as he swings open the door, greasy food in hand.

                “Cas! Sammy!” He calls out gruffly, smiling gently because he almost feels like a normal person. Almost.

                He is reminded that he is _not_ a normal person by any stretch of the imagination when he focuses in on the Bunker’s insides. Normal people don’t have angel boyfriends, and normal people certainly don’t have panic attacks when there are white feathers strewn about the room.

                Dean’s panic sets in immediately, automatically assuming the worst as he reaches for the gun tucked in the waist band of his jeans.

                “Cas!” He almost trips down the stairs as he follows the trail of pristine white feathers. Cas’s feathers are falling out, and Dean can only imagine that the cause is supernatural. He hasn’t seen Cas _shed_ before, and wow, he cannot even begin to think about how fucking weird it is that his boyfriend has wings. He looks around for any signs of a struggle, and finds none. Frantically, he follows the trail of feathers and finds that it leads to Cas and Dean’s bedroom. Dean absolutely freaking panics, because what the hell was someone doing in their bedroom with his boyfriend that caused his _feathers to fall out_?

                “Cas!” He yells again, and of course his voice doesn’t crack.

                Rage, panic, and possession flare up hot and deep inside him, and he runs through the Bunker, finding askew feathers everywhere. He thinks he might be sick. As he gets farther into the Bunker, he starts to hear what he thinks is a smoke detector going off.

                “Sam! Cas!” He can’t stop yelling for them, and he can’t breathe because there might be something wrong with Cas, there might be something wrong with the angel he—

                “Dean?”

                Cas is standing outside the laundry room, Sam slouching behind him. Dean takes a deep breath, relief flooding his system as he checks Cas for any visible signs of distress. There is smoke billowing from the room, and Dean looks incredulously at the pair.

                “Cas, why are their feathers everywhere? I thought…” he trails off, suddenly embarrassed for going off the deep end in his concern for Cas.

                “You thought what, Dean?” Cas asks, tilting his head in that adorable way that Dean can’t resist. The angel walks up to Dean, and takes his hand in his, stroking it gently.

                “I thought you were losing your feathers. Ya know, from your wings.” He stutters out, looking at the ground in mortification. He can hear Sam’s chuckles, and he grinds his teeth because he knows he will never hear the end of this one.

                “Oh.” Cas says, like Dean is not insane or “whipped” for thinking this. “Thank you for your concern, Dean, but my feathers cannot be shorn, nor are they visible in this realm.”

                “Oh, okay.” Dean doesn’t try to defend his extreme thinking as he normally would do. Cas smiles gently at him, and Dean grins back. He isn’t embarrassed anymore. If Sam has a problem with their relationship, he can go live in the Impala for all he cares.

The smoke creating tears in his eyes interrupts their “eye sex” as Sam calls it, and that’s when Dean actually registers that there is thick, black smoke spewing from the laundry room.

                “What the hell happened here?” Sam coughs, looking at Cas to explain it.

                “I was trying to wash the pillows on our bed. I uhh, had some difficulties which resulted in the ripping of the pillows. I asked Sam for assistance, and we somehow managed to set the drier on fire. Do not worry—Sam put the flame out with a red tube of a mysterious white substance.”

                “A fire extinguisher, Cas.” Dean corrects amusedly over Sam’s laughter.

                “Yes, well, a fire extinguisher. I think we’re going to have to replace our pillows, Dean. And the drier.”

                Dean throws his head back and laughs.

                Later that night, when they are laying in their bed, heads resting upon spare pillows, Dean really looks at Cas. He never thought a man could be so beautiful, and he thanks God for creating Jimmy Novak. Cas’s vessel isn’t the only thing Dean can see as he stares into those damn blue eyes. He can see the angel hiding behind them, the angel that raised him from hell, the angel who rebelled against his family for Dean, the angel who _killed_ for him. And he realizes that he is in love with the angel, and he is a fool for not saying it sooner.

                “Cas, I love you.”

                The words are out there, hanging in the air like static. He regrets them immediately, even though he knows it is true. Dean Winchester just doesn’t say “I love you”—especially not first. He is so stupid, because of course Cas doesn’t love him back, he’s an angel for Christ sake--

                “I love you too, Dean.” A sleep thickened voice whispers from in front of him. Dean pauses, disbelief and adrenaline hot and heavy in his throat. When he realizes what the angel has just said, he nuzzles his flushed face into Cas’s warm neck, unexplainable feelings coursing through his blood as the statement sinks in.

                They lay like that for five minutes, curled up together on their bed, and holy shit this is the sappiest thing Dean has ever experienced in his life and _he loves it_.

                “Hey Cas, I have a question for you. How did you manage to get feathers all over the Bunker?” He has to repress the urge to laugh, remembering how many goddamn feathers there were and how he made Sammy vacuum them up.

                “Well…”

                Dean Winchester is “whipped” and he doesn’t even care.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh, so much fluff! :D I loved writing this! 
> 
> Feel free to send me more prompts at primadonna-winchester.tumblr.com! Thanks, lovelies! 
> 
> -SJ xx


End file.
